Terror of Allariz: Manuel Blanco Romasanta
by Akimi Kono
Summary: Romasanta's first love as far as the family goes , María, is completely smitten with the man. Until disaster in the form of death hits Allariz, and she's caught up with finding out the truth of her lover.
1. Return of Romasanta

"It is a pity," came a deep voice that echoed throughout the cold house, "That she had to be alone."

"Yes it is Constable," came a second voice, deeper still, "But that is the way these things happen. And we shant make it in vain, her death that is."

"No, we shant," replied the first, shaking his head whilst removing his hat and wiping his forehead. He placed his hat back on his head, "What .. what was that phrase those Persians said?"

"About what?"

"That ... real short."

"O, Shah Mat."

"Yes, that."

"Yes, shah mat."

"Indeed, the king is dead," the constable replied, turning his face towards the dark hallway across the room, "and the queen is dying."

....

The black-haired woman hung her clothes on the white cotton line, her loose hair blowing in the wind. Water dripped from her fingertips onto the ground, soaking the dark green grass of the fields. The sun beat down, but even so it was lovely. She turned her head, squinting towards the horizon. A small black dot appeared across the thin line separating sky and ground. It grew slowly and steadily, much like sails on a ship as they appeared on the ocean surface. The sun, bright yellow and orange, simmered down on her, making her face turn a soft olive color.

She stepped away from the clothesline and began her trek over the grassy hills towards the black dot, itself approaching her. She stopped, raising her hand to her eyes and watching as it grew larger and took shape. A wagon. Two black and strong horses, their large hooves beating against the ground. Shaking their heads and snorting, she smiled to herself. She knew whom this person was and what they wanted.

"Romasanta," she said in a whisper, before taking off in a brisk run across the plains, her voice hanging high above the ground as she shouted, "Romasanta!"

....

"And what is that, Constable? Two? Or was it four?" came the almost sarcastic voice of an angered vendor as he pushed his cart through the empty streets. "Perhaps six."

"Mind your business," snapped the man, his eyes narrowing at the passing cart.

"Well, sir," came a third voice, calm and collected as if nothing were wrong, "We will have to make room for this as well as the other ... " The white haired man stood, brushing off his hands and scratching his beard thoughtfully. "I am not sure we will have enough room back at the -- "

"Make room!"

"I can try as best as I am able, constable, but it is not likely we will ... "

"You are the coroner are you not? Make room."

The old man sighed, "Yes, sir."

....

"What is troubling you?"

The brunet looked from his sheets of paper up to the smiling woman.

"No," he shook his head, sighing and sitting back in the wooden chair, his papers scattered across the table, "There is no troubling ... perhaps ... " he looked over at her, "perhaps you would be willing to let someone as disrespectful as me to stay the night?"

She sighed, her smile stuck across her lips. "I should be careful around you!"

"Me? What harm could I cause, dear María?"

Her smile widened, "You could be the death of me, sir. And you would enjoy it too, watching me squirm under the weight of it all! Oo, you make me so anxious."

"You do not appear anxious," he replied, his cool blue eyes staring at her. She felt her face heat up, so she stuck her chin into the air, standing up straight in a dignified manner.

"And I do well to protect that, Manuel!" As she turned and strutted back into the kitchen, he let out a low chuckle. Only María, he thought, only María.

....

The older men conversed in near silence, their coughing hiding the murmurs of worried phrases. Death filled the town, the stench of bodies hung low over the air. The mist was thick and almost a pink color, tainted and stained with blood. It would not be the same in Allariz. Never again would it. It would become a horror to stay in such a place. With watching your every move by the citizens along with the wolves and the bone-chilling sensation of being watched from every angle wherever you went -- whenever you stepped out into the world!

It would not be safe to leave without someone with you. Pitchforks lined along the houses, torches burned day and night. The doors locked, the windows barred, no one would be leaving any time soon. Yet one person seemed not so troubled by these misfortunes. Calm and sturdy, his frame would be known to many a woman, his face etched into their minds before death came. This man, o, so loved by all, would be trusted by so many families and friends. Young women would put their lives into his hands and he would play with it, as a cat plays with yarn. This man, you understand, was not afraid of wolves. Not in the least bit. Having complete visual control over the creatures, he ruled the forests, yet the women still felt scared.

O, dear, Romasanta. And his lover, María, trusted him whole-heartedly even if to be betrayed.

The constable shook his heavy head, his jowls shaking at the motion. "We can not announce this to anyone, it would be too much. We wait, and take these back -- "

"Do you not understand this situation, Constable?" snapped the others. "We will _not_ put others' lives in danger just because you see fit."

"There is no other choice," the balding man replied, his eyes narrowing, "And you shant talk that way to me -- or I shall have you arrested! All of you -- even those whom just listen."

Everyone fell silent, the soft sound of whistling from the winds far away the only noise. A leaf rattled across the stone path, crossing the feet of one of the men. Standing straight, he cleared his throat and fixed his tunic.

"I propose that we do this in secret and very quickly. As effective as it may be, rumors will still be found, and no matter how well we 'scrub the corners' as to put it into terms," he coughed a chuckle as a sign to signify that he meant keep witnesses quiet, "We will be found in a most unusual and awkward position. So be better to put this on ice and examine it, just as the others."

"Too many," one countered, his moustache moving up and down as his lips opened, "It would be as if we put this on display for all of Allariz! We should just find the family and bury them. It would be easier for everyone."

"Do you not understand?" the third asked in a harsh voice, leaning into the second whom stepped back in a nervous way. "We will not survive the night!"

"Quiet! All of you!" the Constable shouted, in which all the men in the group silenced. "We will deal with this in the only respectable way possible." He turned to the young boy standing on the corner not ten meters away. "You, boy."

His dark face turned up, mud staining his cheeks and eyebrows. His large brown eyes focused on him. He did not speak.

"Here," the Constable pointed at the ground to his side. The boy ran over to him. "Tell me, are you willing to do something for a small payment?" He nodded. "Good," he turned to the ground, "Bring us a cart and a tarp."

As the boy began to run off, he heard the end of the conversation.

"What are you doing, Constable? Someone will see."

"Yes, yes, I suppose. But we will dispose of this as any other victim in this crime." His thick voice ran with confidence and justice, "And we will be rid of this stench once and for all."

"It will hang in the air for days."

"Not the stench of the bodies, Ferdinand. The stench of injustice and mystery. We will find this culprit, and he shall be brought to court!"

The boy's bare feet padded on the ground as he ran to a warehouse, his heart pounding. Injustice? Mystery? What culprit? In a matter of seconds he realized that being mute would be a wonderful thing. If only he were deaf and blind. But being dumb was all right. After all, his mother had taught him a most important rule and he would obey it even if that meant disappearing from Allariz when one is to be questioned.

See no evil, Hear no evil, Speak no evil.


	2. Deaths in Allariz

3/3/10

Crossing through the town, the chattering echoing behind them in a buzzing much like an insect's, the two men pulled the cart behind them, the tarp dragging along the ground. Five houses and no luck. They would not find the family before nightfall. It would be another day, with the body stinking the town and rotting in the sun, baking like biscuits and sausages. Soon the flesh would turn to pudding and it would be no use to ask for identification.

As the two pulled the cart over the cobble path they heard the clattering of something behind them. Ferdinand turned his head to see a wooden cage with two chickens tumble to the ground. They squawked and flapped their wings, clucking loudly. Metal poles fell over and clanged, rolling down the street. A boy appeared behind the crudely put together table, his face grey. He stared in horror at the two men as they saw his presence. His eyes, large like a grapefruit, stared at the pale hand poking from the white tarp.

He stood, jumping to his bare feet, and took off in a run. He ran in the opposite direction in which the two men were traveling. He headed South, towards the middle of town. He wanted to get away from that sight. A dead person. He'd not seen one before that. Heard of them, and even smelled them. But never seen one. It had frightened him.

The men, turning back as they were quite used to this reaction, began their travel back through the North section of Allariz, preparing to cross up onto the farms. Perhaps the victim had been one of them, and then they would be able to put her to rest. Even if this gruesome sight was not one a family wished to see.

As the dwindling light of the sun settled to a deep navy, the stars a piercing hole in the blanket of night, the men stopped at a brick house. The wooden door locked as to keep wolves out. Ferdinand knocked heavily on the door, his fist pounding. The sound echoed in the large house.

A wheezing voice spoke out. "Whom is it?" The voice cracked and old.

"It is I, Ferdinand." the brunet spoke out, sweat trickling down his temple to his jaw.

"There are two," the voice replied, "Surnames! I need Surnames, too many named Ferdinand..."

The man glanced back at the second whom shrugged and nodded. Ferdinand turned back to the door, leaning in close to the cool wood.

"Ferdinand Mendoza, and Jacobo Gutierrez."

The man on the other side was silent. Then came the thudding sounds of wood being removed and the door being unlocked. Then the loud and deep groan of the door as it was pulled open, moving as slow as the old man himself. He appeared, grey hair and all, in the slim crack of the door. His face was sagging, teeth a mixture between grey and yellow. His lips parted as he squinted, his eyesight obviously horrible.

"Mendoza ... is that ... " He paused as his eyes widened, "It is you! What are you doing out here? For the love ... Oo, get in here." The man hobbled out of the way to let the two in.

"Delgado," Ferdinand began, stepping into the house, "We need a place to put ... "

"Put what?" Delgado asked, turning around. Hunched over and knobby, the old man seemed near to death. As if any old wind that fluttered along could push him over and break bones, killing him. Would he bleed out? His ruddy skin color was patched with white and purple. He leaned in. "Put what, Mendoza?"

"A-A body, Delgado." The man stepped back, slightly nervous. "We found another. We need a place to put it for the night. A safe place. So the wolves can not get at it."

"Yes, I supposed so ... " As the man began to think, his eyes sunk deeper into his skull. A white haze came over in a thin film, coating the iris and pupil. It seemed he was deteriorating before Mendoza's very eyes. The loose skin under his throat began to shake with the vibrations of talking. "Put it in the back ... We shall lock the stables to-night, dear boy. And we will not let those wolves near it!"

His voice echoed in the nearly empty room. The younger nodded, "Yes, thank you." He turned and walked out from the lit room into the dark. A chill ran up his spine at this motion. As the cloud of night surrounded him much like a coat did, the temperature lowered and the moon rose. A sliver of a moon it was, barely visible. The stars were much more brighter.

It would be safe to-night. The wolves relied on the moon to see as to hunt, they would not venture out here for a meal. Not now, not to-night. As the man got gooseflesh from the feeling he was being spied on by yellow slit eyes, he began the rolling of the wooden wheels of the cart, Jacobo following him around the house to the grass yard. As the wheels rolled over the ground the sound of panting filled the air. The younger, Jacobo, turned his head around to see where the noise originated.

There was nothing around them. Mendoza kept his face forward, ignoring it. He knew that it was better to finish this and go inside, where it was safe. Day and night. Jacobo swallowed, sweat trickling down. It was not hot out, though. A cold, miserable sweat. A nervous sweat. The black-haired man's eyes searched the field as they pulled the boards along behind them, the wheels creaking subtly.

Two steps, then three. Almost there. They could see the makeshift building used for the single black horse that Delgado owned, as he was too crippled to take care of any more than that. They could hear the snorting and stomping of the horse as it heard the approaching gentlemen. It knew the dangers of the canine breed that lurked just outside the perimeter of Allariz. And even inside, during the night.

A sudden breeze brushed along the backs of their necks, making everything seem that much more sinister. Six steps. They were there. As Ferdinand unlatched the wooden door and pulled it open, letting it creak loudly and whine, Gutierrez glanced around the large spanse of grass. The faint outline of the house in which Delgado resided could be seen. This did not make him feel at ease, as it was too far should they have to run.

He wiped his forehead, brushing sweat from his black hair across his tanned forehead. He turned as they dragged the cart into the shack, the wheels bumping along the warped boards of the floor. The smell of horse and straw filled Jacobo's nose as he helped the other moved the cart to the far back of the room. Moving out of the way, the two set the two poles against the wall to prop up the bed of the wagon, the tarp hanging loose. The younger noticed the hand hanging from the side, its purple fingers bloated and scarred. The mere glance of this made him sick.

Before he could vomit, as the combination of manure and wood made his head spin, he heard the soft whining of an animal just outside. He stopped, his stomach settling in a sudden panic. He turned his head towards the door, which hung open and banged against the frame in the wind. First instinct was to rush to it and close it, locking it as it keep them safe inside. Riding on the high horse could keep them safe for a temporary while.

Just as one foot stepped forward, and his eyes focused on the edge of the door in which his destination was, he also thought of darting to the house. He wanted escape. To be in a safe haven. That was it, he decided. Towards the house, as to-night he would not die.

His course set, his plan ready, his walk began to turn into a run as he raced for the door. Just short of the door there came the scratching of claws against the wood. He froze, his heart feeling as if it were in his throat. Ferdinand turned his head from Jacobo towards the wall, the wall that the wagon was set up against. He heard snuffling and snorting, hearing dirt being tossed and whining. He knew this sound. He knew what it was. He had been afraid of that sound ever since he was a young boy, and now his fear returned, stronger than ever.

He turned his olive-skinned face towards Jacobo whom was near the opened door. He opened his mouth and shouted a warning, "Gutierrez -- shut the door!" But his words were lost as the door was thrown open, a large shadowed figure appearing near the floor. Its shoulders jutted out, its head low. The animal growled, barring white and glistening teeth. Saliva dripped from its jaws onto the wooden floor. Jacobo stared in horror as the animal's bright yellow eyes stared into his own brown ones.

Gutierrez felt mesmerized by the eyes. Though an animal's, they seemed almost human. This gave him the feeling of gooseflesh over his body. The canine's body shuddered as it approached him, snarling angrily. He could see blood and flesh in its teeth, along the loose skin of its mouth, and over his muzzle. Not feeling any sense of danger, the man stepped forward, entranced by the animal.

Ferdinand let out an exclaimation as the wolf jolted forward in a quick and error-less movement, taking its jaws in a vise action against Gutierrez's throat, he whom let out a throaty and gurgling cry of pain.

As the man lie there dying, the wolf turned its gaze to Mendoza. He quickly chose a wooden pitchfork from the assortment of weapons hanging against wall to his back. He stood in a terrifying stance, jutting out the farm equipment at the animal who growled and snapped. It stepped back, over the body of Gutierrez. Fresh blood coated its mouth and face though his eyes still shined yellow. With one last shout from Ferdinand, the animal turned and trotted out of the room, its tail swinging from side to side.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart racing. Suddenly the situation set in. His hands shook and he dropped the instrument. Now feeling scared, Mendoza dropped to his knees, his stomach churning violently. Grabbing the folds of his tunic and bent over himself, he sobbed.

....

The black-haired woman sat in silence as she sewed her last pair of white stockings, her tight curls brushing against her forehead. She licked her lips absentmindedly, concentrating on the small stitch.

She sighed, her fingers numb, as she sat back and stared at the man across the room whom was writing something on a piece of parchment.

"Manuel," she began, setting her clothes in her lap, "I am very tired."

"Go to sleep," he replied, not looking up from the paper.

"I am not until you do." she replied, "And I shant fall asleep until you do, so ... " she paused as he sighed, "Choose when you wish for me to sleep."

He looked up, his unnatural blue eyes following her every slight move. "María, you do not need to wait for me. If you wish to sleep, sleep." Though he did not sound exasperated, ever, he did look a bit exhausted. He looked quite pale in the firelight.

"Please, Manuel. You have already made the fires outside, and you .. you have already locked the doors, barred windows, eaten supper .. sleep, now."

He shook his head along with a sharp intake of air and looked back down at the paper resting on his knee. "I will finish this, then we can sleep."

The woman stood, setting her stockings on the chair along with the needle. She crossed the room, her gown brushing along the floor. She knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on his. "Manuel ... do you not get lonely with so many days away from Allariz?"

"I do."

"And you do not see any other woman, as I do not see any other man. Do you not?"

"I do not."

"Then, would you appreciate the time you have with me as you must leave in not more than two days."

He glanced at her. Her black hair and bright eyes made him feel at home. Though it would not last, as did none of his lovers. He reached out and brushed the strands of hair from her face. "As I would appreciate a gift from you, this is a gift, is it not?"

She smiled softly. "Could it not be?"

"No."

"Then," she began, sighing and closing her eyes half-way as to stare at him like a small child would, "would you like to enjoy your gift, Manuel? As any other person would."

He smiled as softly as he could. "And as any other person, I would have to agree ... that I would enjoy appreciating this gift of mine, from such a lovely woman."

María smiled. "And you shall," she said, standing. As she began to walk away, Manuel's eyes followed her. Thinking to himself, in cross between a sad and an absolute way.

And I shall.


	3. Delgado and the Wolf

3/3/10 - 3/4/10

María lied in bed, silent. On her side with her left hand on her lover's bare chest, she thought to herself the day's actions. Morrow she would have to go into town and purchase thread, as she had run out whilst sewing her stockings. It was a pity, wearing the same stockings over. But twas cheaper than buying new stockings themselves. Inhaling deeply, she felt the soft yet rugged cotton brush against her back. She wished that this feeling would last her entire life. She loved the man, though he seemed the type to be of infidelities.

Rolling onto her back she stared at the ceiling. Her mind raced to the time she had fist met the man. It would be a wonderful thing to experience again. But should she, it would be years until she ended up here, next to him.

_A bright and lovely day in Allariz, nearly noon. As the sun settled itself comfortably in the pale blue sky, María made her way across the street to one of the vendors. She purchased a small trinket for her younger sister, Bárbara, and began her way back towards the wagon that awaited her. Halfway there, she noticed another vendor whom she did not know. It appeared his soft blue eyes were staring directly at her. She felt a heat rising to her face as she looked down coyly, her heart beating rapidly. Never had such a man looked at her in that manner before. It made her feel as if she were beautiful -- more beautiful than Queen Isabella II. As she slowly began to cross again to her wagon, she felt, as if beckoned, pulled to the cart. Deciding that it would not be troublesome to stop by the vendor, she turned and walked across the street._

_The man smiled, his provocative features making her forget why she had stopped there. Shaking her head of curls, she turned her eyes down to his items. She chose a dress, a lovely green silk one, that would be for Bárbara._

_As she chose the item, his spoke, his voice soft and lovely._

_"This gown will not fit you, you know." _

_"Yes, I realize that, sir." she replied as she laid out the money atop another gown. _

_"Then why buy it?" He inquiried._

_And this man is a vendor -- poking into people's lives like this, she thought as she turned her face up to him, "It is for my younger sister." She held out her hands in an angry manner. He handed her the gown, smiling again._

_"I do not intend to insult. I am merely curious. It is my nature." _

_As she glanced up at him she saw he was entertained at her reaction. Determined to not let him enjoy himself, she folded the gown over her arm, "And it is my nature to excuse myself from such a man." She turned and walked off towards her wagon, her head high. As she climbed into the bench, her good male friend, Che, next to her with the reins in his hands. Just as the single horse carriage was pulling away, their hooves trotting along, María looked over to see the vendor staring at her. His eyes seemed to pull at something within her. As if his eyes could control her._

_Afraid of this newfound feeling, she turned away and stared straight ahead. She was not going to let this silly man make her feel this way. Che did not ask anything of it as they trotted out of the city, turning the horses down onto the mud covered road that lead down the grassy hills of Allariz. As the houses stopped and farms started, María began to think of the man, despite of dislike for him._

_Soon the wheels began to bump along the rocks that popped up from the sloshing dirt in the road. As María was rocked back and forth and left to right she tried to focus on something else. The trees lining the hills in the distance, their branches stretching out to the soft sky, their leaves blocking out whatever hid inside the woods. The horse snorted, shaking her from her thoughts. She rested back against the bench, her eyes growing heavy. Something had happened back in the town. She was not sure what it was, but it made her feel quite like nothing she had felt before. _

_Sitting in silence for the rest of the trip, she kept her eyes on the trees and her mind on anything other than the man. _

It was not unusual for the black-haired woman to feel a bit empty. In the mornings when she awoke next to her lover or in the evenings as he sat writing. She wanted his attentions, fully and loving, and no exceptions. But it would not be that way, and she knew it. It still bothered her, though, when he paid attention to a woman, even that of her sister. As she rolled onto her other side, with her back now to Manuel, she thought of how it would be easier to just leave this place without Bárbara. Leave everything behind, forget this life and move on with Romasanta. But this thought also made her sad.

Feeling the warmth of the man next to her, she rested her head onto the pillow and pulled the blanket up over her chest. She did not want to leave here without her sister, even if their quarrels were enough to drive her mad. As the sun rose up over the town of Allariz, the rays baking the bright fields and the golden wheat, it peeked in through the wood covering the windows. The woman could feel it against her bare back, making her shudder. What would life be like without Romasanta there? Lighting fire herself, barring windows and locking doors on her own, cooking for no one? Her heart began to feel as if sinking farther inside of her, perhaps into her stomach.

Inhaling deeply, breathing in the scent of cloth and grass from the man next to her, she closed her eyes. In moments she was asleep.

....

Delgado stepped out of his home onto the cobbled path of the street. He turned his old face one way, towards the South, then towards the North. The street was empty, the town quiet. The warm sun and the cool wind made for an interesting atmosphere. As he pushed himself forward with his long and scraggly cane, he noticed that there was not even the sounds of his horse. Surely it wanted out, as it was anxious to get away from the barn it slept in as wolves surrounded it during the night. He turned and began to walk around the house, down the slight hills and across the fields over to the building. It was old looking in the early morning sun.

The man made his way to the side of the shack in which the door was. Pushing it open with his hand and keeping it open with his shoulder, he walked inside. The smell of straw, stale air and horse made him sick. Normally it was fine, but to-day there was something different.

Delgado shuffled inside, his eyes trying to concentrate near the back of the barn. As he passed near the doors of the stall on the right side, he noticed that the cart with the dead body from yesterday was still there. Ferdinand and Gutierrez had not left yet? Surely, they had. As he did not see them that morning. Shaking his head he crossed the aisle to the stall with the only horse. His gnarled fingers unlatched the metal pin and he laid his flat palm against the door. It slid open. The horse snorted uneasily, its breath white in the air.

"What is wrong, Felipe?" He asked, reaching out for the animal, whom reared back and refused to be touched. The old man muttered something angry as he walked into the stall, squinting as his arm pushed himself forward. He shook as he approached the beast. He was not afraid that it was twice his size and ten times as strong. He was its owner, its master. "Felipe!" He shouted, thrusting out his cane.

The horse shook its head, backing away into the corner. "What is wrong?" He asked again. He was growing impatient. As he walked forward, his cane hit against something. In his age, he could not see as well, making him kneel down slowly as examine the thing. A large animal, covered in dark fur. Its eyes closed, with drool dripping from its jaw, it was still ferocious looking. As Delgado stumbled back in surprise, he let out a cry. The wolf, as dead as it looked, rose to its four legs. It shuddered, as had the one whom had gotten Gutierrez, and lowered its head.

Delgado tried to escape, only for his cane to slip on a bare area of floor and fall. The snapping and cracking of bones was heard as he let out a shout of pain. Now on his arms and legs, he tried to crawl to the door. A sudden chill ran down his spine. He turned his head to come within inches of the snout of the angry canine. He could see blood smeared across its mouth. He could smell rotting flesh on its breath.

One last shout at the animal was the last thing he was allowed to say. As the animal attacked, the horse stood in nervous silence in the corner. Afraid of the wolf, it tried to push itself back further, snorting and whinnying. Its high sound carrying out of the barn and across the fields. Unfortunately, because the streets were empty as it was still not as safe as it could be, no one heard it. Huddled away in their homes, they were negligent to the desperate warning for help of the animal as it watched its master being devoured.

If one was to stand just outside of their own home, perhaps one would hear it. Though they would not see it, as they would not trust to leave the safety of their house. Ergo, it was useless.

It was noon before anyone found Gutierrez, lying in the fields not three meters from the door of the shack, missing two fingers and half of his leg. It was as if his body had been drug from the establishment into the grass where a wolf had decided to leave him.

Delgado was found as well, crumpled in the doorway of the stall, blood around his body. The wolf lying in the corner as well, the horse's hooves covered in the red and sticky substance, as if it had stepped over the bodies. Ferdinand, however, was not found.


	4. María and her Secret

Post- 3/4/10 - 3/11/10

"What is the matter?" came the voice, carrying down the hall. It echoed in the empty rooms and back to the woman. "You appear sick."

She smiled, her hair sticking to her forehead and the back of her neck. "Manuel, please. It is just hot out -- I am not sick."

He stared at her, his blue eyes concentrating on her pale features. He reached out and brushed sweat from her forehead, running his index finger along her temple. "I am worried, María. You do not normally get sick."

"Exactly -- I am not ill. Just a mere trick of the eyes." She picked up a cold cloth from the bucket and rung it out, splashing water onto her gown. She wiped off her face, exhaling sharply. She breathed in the scent of dirt and air. Shaking out the rag, she glanced over at her lover. She felt her face heat up, laughing shortly. "I can not work with eyes on me, Manuel!"

The man smiled softly, leaning over and pressing his lips against the side of the woman's forehead. "You do not seem to mind, María, when I do this. However I can not simply watch you?"

Her face flushed red. She stepped back, turning her face away. "Please, Manuel," she tried to sound stern, like how a mother spoke to her child, "I am working."

"And I shall leave you to it." He nodded his head before walking out of the room, down the hall and out of the house. She heard the door close, pounding against the frame. She sighed heavily, collapsing to the ground, sitting on the bustles of her gown. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and shook her head. Never before had a man made her feel like this ... He was different, in a lot of ways. But in the same ways, he was the same. He was a vendor, which was common. His dark brown hair was common amongst the Spanish men in Allariz. Even his blue eyes were seen now and again in some of the small village children. Certainly not illegitimates from previous philandering. Would a man like him walk through a town scattered with his seed? Most likely not.

Regaining her composure, she stood, leaning against the frame of her bed. Just thinking of this man tired her out. He was quite a strange person, as well as kind. Quiet, he kept to himself. Yet he seemed to know everything that went along in their town. It did not worry her, as she heard news herself from gossip. Perhaps the men spoke in quiet knit circles as did the women of the town. This made her smile. Men.

Grabbing the bucket of water and placing the rag in it, she crossed the room and out towards the hall. Down towards the front of the house, she paused as she noticed the fire had died. Noting to herself that she needed to build it back up, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the early morning sunlight. Breathing in the damp air, she walked over the lawn towards the well.

She would not let this man get to her. He was still the vendor in the marketplace she had met not five years ago. Walking up to the rock circle, she set the bucket on the top and leaned forward, reaching for the rope. It would be a while to get used to this feeling, this churning of stomach and uneasiness, but soon it would pass, as had her mother told her. She could not tell the man, not quite then, as she was unsure whether it was his or not. She had spent nights with another person before, as Romasanta had not been with her but in another town. Her loneliness had clouded her judgment.

In any case, she would be telling the man, Manuel, soon. Big news, something that could not be casually slipped in at supper-time conversations.

She, María, was pregnant.

....

It should not surprise anyone if a woman is pregnant. Unless, of course, the woman is not married. That was the problem with María. She had never been married, and had no plans to get married. This created friction between her and her morals, as she debated on telling Manuel the secret or not. Should it be his child, he would know by the eyes and facial features. The same problem arose should it not be his.

As the black-haired woman walked down the cobble-stone street towards the nearest shop which was her destination, she thought of all the things that could happen. She did not want to get rid of the child, as it would be suspicious if she bought herbs or was seen not eating, but the stress from it all. ... A miscarriage would give her heartache. She would lose either way.

Stepping into the shop, she could smell meat cooking and the soft, subtle bite of lemons. She crossed the room, running a hand along the counter, towards the back. The narrow room led to an even narrower passage that opened up to a storage center. As she passed through this, her head brushing along the cloth hanging down from the doorframe, she could see that the shop was empty.

"Señor?" The woman called out, looking around. She stepped down the single step and walked along the cool floor, turning to stare. "Señor?" Perhaps he had stepped out for a moment or was called away for an emergency. Stepping forward, María noticed that something did not seem right. She called out again, hearing her voice echo on the walls. Where was he?

The soft scratching sounds of an animal soon filled the room, originating from the corner of the dark room. She murmured the man's name, nervousness welling up inside of her. As she stepped to her right, she heard the scratching again. Quiet and persistent, the noise rose up to her. She swallowed the feeling to turn and run, she stepped forward, her shoes clacking on the ground. The noise came from behind a door, which was opened slightly.

As she put her hand on the edge of the door, she heard a squeak. Blinking multiple times, she slowly pulled open the door to stare into the black room. A stench came out, wafting past her and making her gag. Stepping back and holding her stomach, she stared in. Soon out came a rat, squeaking and scuttling across the ground. She let out a shriek and jumped to the side, her heart pounding. Was that it? A rat?

Feeling a bit silly as she watched the animal scurry past her towards the shadows on the other side of the storage room, which was nearly empty, she sighed and shook her head. But what was that smell? Had the rat gotten into some food and then spoiled? As she stepped forward, she peered in, tilting her head to the side. She could barely see anything. A chill ran up her spine, making her shudder.

María turned and walked over to the end of the room, opening the small chest that held lanterns. She had learned that this was here when she visited this man years ago. He had worked here since she was a child. Standing, with the lantern's light illuminating out, she stepped forward towards the space. As she rounded around the door, she looked in, turning her eyes up and then straight forward. There was nothing ...

As her eyes traveled down, she let out a scream and stepped back, dropping the lantern. The glass shattered, spilling oil across the ground, the flames following. As the fire grew, burning whatever was on the ground, María covered her mouth with her hands. In the small room was not any sort of edible food, but was indeed meat. Of some sort. The mutilated body of the man lie on its back, one arm reaching out as if trying to crawl out. One leg pulled up, his knee to his chest, the other out behind him. His face was down to the ground, blood pooling around his body. Skin was white and purple, peeling back to expose muscle and tissue. In his shoulder and arm, bone was showing, jutting through the limbs.

The woman turned and doubled over, retching. This time is was not from morning sickness.

....

A/N: I hope you liked it .. I apologize that I have not worked on it recently.


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